Mendings & Meanings
by Nerianna Knuu
Summary: Sequel to Madness & Mendings. Some stories simply cannot be told in one sitting. Alice Pleasance is on a journey of self discovery, but what she finds along the way may raise more questions than answers. Story rated M for later, just in case.
1. Chapter 1

It took me forever to find inspiration to write this sequel. For anyone who was waiting for it, I hope this short beginning gets you excited for the rest of the story to come. Enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 1: the Long Trip Home

Explaining anything of great difficulty, was never a pleasant task between a daughter and her father, especially when it came to distance. It was even more difficult to explain why the distance had to be thousands of miles between continents.

Alice tried to resituate herself in her seat, replaying the conversation over in her mind…

_***Flashback***_

"_What do you mean you're flying to England?!?! Pumpkin…our anniversary is in two weeks. We always go into the city…as a family…you're going to break your mother's heart."_

_Alice chewed on a cookie, turning short distances from left to right on her barstool at the island counter in her parents kitchen. She knew this conversation was going to be difficult, but her preperation never prepared her for how stricken her father sounded. She was happy that she had chosen to speak to her father alone, or the sound of her mother's sobs in the background would have made this impossible._

"_Muffin…why can't you wait until the summer? We could all go…together…I'll even rent a home and we can stay as long as you like. It'll be like a vacation. We haven't had a vacation all together in years."_

"_Daddy…" Alice slipped off her stool, resting her cookie on her plate, her milk entirely untouched. "This is something I need to do alone."_

_Tom Pleasance slumped into a chair in the breakfast nook, eyeing the snow as it fell outside. His againg eyes were full of worry, and it brought great stabs of guilt to her heart. Alice had been watching the snow aswell, remembering a similar evening over a year ago, and a man in a long dark blue coat…_

"_Alice, I could certainly be more understanding if I knew exactly what you had to do alone."_

"_I just need to get away for while…that's all."_

_***End Flashback***_

It wasn't a total lie, she did need to get away. It had never occurred to her to actually leave the country though. That little hitch had kept her from leaving in the spring, as there were passports to procure and finances to arrange.

Alice sat back in her highly uncomfortable coach seat, listening to the uncomforting hum of the very loud jet engine somewhere below them. The flight that took her away from America had thus far been long and irksome, and the dinner they had served hours ago was curently rumbling in the pit of her stomach obnoxiousely. She hated flying…

Alice hated flying and she hated keeping things from her father. She also hated packing and being away from familiar surroundings, which left her bewildered as to why she was traveling to find something she wasn't even sure could be found.

She looked out the window, watching as dawn broke over London Heathrow Airport. It had been snowing in Gotham when she left, and it brought back so many painful memories she was almost happy to see gray skies and light rain and the plane began to descend.

* * *

"Look here Charles, I know you're upset but we can't do anything now, we don't even know who the buyer is."

"Bloody hell Tom, the deal was pulled right out from under us. You aren't even concerned?"

Thomas VonTrench raised his pint to his lips, taking a long pull of stout before eyeing the local inhabitants around him. Willshyre was a quiet village, set in a quaint english country side that wreaked of antiquity. From his seat he could see the tavern's sign that read simply, "The Raven," a sign he was sure could be no younger than 1545. This is why he preferred London, atleast they tried to keep up with the times.

"No Charles, I'm not, and I'll tell you why. We have every opportunity to get it back, we just have to see the correct attornies once we get into the city. It's absolute bollocks that they found an heir. "

Charles wiped his brow, and Tom watched the stocky man's cheeks get ruddier the more he turned it all over in his simple little brain. "Well I don't like it, I don't like it at all. We were hours away from signing the papers, and Barton drowns himself in the lake and some mysterious heir shows up? Bloody hell….they won't even give us his name. It's all very mysterious to me."

Tom only nodded, turning his attention to the street outside and the rain that was beginning to fall. Unimpressed with his buisness partner's way with words, his own mind began to work through what had transpired in the last week or so. One of Willshyre's most romantic manor's had almost been theirs for the taking. The exclusive bed and breakfast they had planned would have brought this pathetic little town into the twenty first century, but the stately manor that had lovingly come to be known as Rosethorn, was now in the hands of an American whose name was barred from every document they had seen.

Tom had watched from his car for days as personal belongings were moved into the manor, but no one ever came out to check on the workers or direct them. It was as if the man who had swindled his way into the land was nothing more than a ghost.

"Hello love, I'll have…another pint…and the shepards pie…and maybe…how's the fish n' chips then?" Charles tapped his pudgy fingers on the piece of paper in front of him that served as a menu.

The waitress had most likely responded, and Tom knew the two were chatting away over the day's faire, but he couldn't hear them at all. His eyes were suddenly fixed on a young blonde woman across the street, struggling with three or four suitcases as she made her way into Molly's Inn. Perhaps his stay in Willshyre, wouldn't be as bad as he thought.

* * *

Rosethorn was sprawling manor, that spoke of fairy tales and dashing gentlemen. From the outside, the brown stone mansion looked as though it had seen its share of history. The walk way leading to the giant mahogany doors was cobblestone, lined with what was surely flower beds that would be brilliant in the spring. In fact, all the grounds were filled with gardens that lay in wait, holding their little breaths for the first sign of warmth, so that each bud could once again rise and turn its head to the english sun.

Inside, there were no servants stirring about as there had been in years past…no music….no laughter…only the clink of china against silver as a man sat in the drawing room, absently stirring a cup of tea. He had lit a fire in the fireplace, whose expansive mantle and wide stone base filled the room with an old fashioned warmth unattainable by modern furnaces.

This was a home known only to this lonely soul in his childhood, and as he stirred his tea, het let his mind wander back to memories of his mother playing the piano, his father tinkering with strange copper toys, and his siblings studying so as to please them both. It had been a lovely little façade of a happy family while it had lasted.

There had been quarrels later on, and crying…yes there was much crying in these halls. He still couldn't bring himself to enter what his mother had called the blue room. It was a room as sad as its color, and though the man chided himself that he was an adult, and hesitation was a child's game, he had locked the room up with an old key that he had tossed in a dresser in another bedroom. He was happy to have it forgotten.

The first sip of tea, usually the most pleasant, brought no smile to his lips. From within his coat, the man pulled out a picture, which he set down on a table by a ridiculousely large top hat. The site of the blonde woman trapped beneath the glass, her smile frozen in time, brought only meloncholy and no releif as its owner had hoped.

It was true, that no matter where he went, no place would ever feel like home to Jervis Tetch without his Alice.


	2. Chapter 2

A huge thanks to those who have already read and reviewed. I forgot the disclaimers at the start of Chapter 1 but I'm sure you're all smart enough to figure out which characters I own and which ones I don't. Enjoy!

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Chapter 2: New Foes & Old Friends

Alice sat in the dining area of Molly's Inn, staring at the breakfast plate before her. She had been so excited to spend her first night in Willshyre, that her excitement had carried over into her morning, and had gotten her a little carried away. Alice was surprised to find Molly was an actual woman, who was currently fussing over her guests like a mother hen. Her slight Irish brogue was so charming, Alice had let her talk her into a traditional English breakfast. There were eggs of course, slices of tomato, fried mushrooms, and toast that almost looked as if it had been deep fried in butter. She recognized all of this, even though she had never thought of putting it all together. What she was most apprehensive of were the few pieces of what looked like large slices of sausage that Molly had called 'pudding', both black and white. She couldn't for the life of her determine if they were actually edible as she moved them around her plate.

"They're really almost the same as your American sausage, with a few…choice added ingredients. I would try the white pudding first if you fear shocking the palate."

The smooth, deep baritone voice made Alice's heart flutter. She looked up, only to feel a pang of disappointment at the dark haired man standing over her.

"Why do they call it pudding?"

"It's all part of the English charm I suppose."

"Why is the black pudding…black?"

"Dried Blood….."

Alice made a face, picking her tea cup up and raising it to her lips. The man kept watching her with sage green eyes; his black hair neatly pulled back into a pony tail at the base of his skull. In Gotham it would have made him seem low class, but in his pristine suit, in this old country inn, he looked very aristocratic. "I don't mean to seem forward, but…may I sit?"

Alice nodded, letting the tea caress her throat. It was an Irish breakfast tea with plenty of cream and sugar, obviously a kick back to Molly's roots. The man sat down at her small table, folding his hands. Molly came over immediately, but before she could offer a greeting the man looked to her, and Alice could see that something in the man's eyes made her uneasy. "I'll have the same as my…companion."

Molly nodded, offering a warm smile to Alice, but an uneasy side glance to the man with the dark hair as she headed to the kitchen. "My name is Thomas…Thomas VonTrench…and you are?" He extended a hand, waiting for her to do the same.

Alice set down her tea cup, eyeing the hand in front of her. She had been told that the English were overly courteous if nothing else, but no one had said anything about them being so forward. She took his hand, offering a light shake. "Alice Pleasance…"

Tom took her hand, and pulled it to his lips, placing an extremely soft kiss upon her second knuckle, which caused her to blush furiously. She cleared her throat, taking her hand back as soon as she was able. "So your name is Thomas? That's my father's name as well…."

"Yes I was named for my uncle. He was a brilliant businessman and I believe my father had hoped I would be the same." As his breakfast came out, he took his linen napkin off the table, nonchalantly shaking it out and resting it on his lap. It made Alice feel very self conscious that her own napkin lay in a crumpled heap by her plate."

"So…Thomas…."

"Please my dear, my friends call me Tom."

Alice quirked a brow. They couldn't have been sitting together long, surely not long enough to be friends. "Well Tom, I'm curious…are all the men in Willshyre so bold?"

"I could not say, lovely Alice, as I am a London native. I'm here on a land deal."

"Oh…how did you know I was American?"

Tom smirked, cutting a very small piece of his black pudding. "You look American." He took a delicate bite, chewing with a minimal movement of his jaw.

Alice nodded, positive that wasn't a compliment. She found herself fascinated with the way he moved. His fingers were tapered and graceful, and they handled his utensils with the perfection of a surgeon. As she tried to eat her own breakfast, she would catch him watching her with great interest, and it made her uneasy. The only other man that had ever seemed so interested in her movements, was Jervis.

"You're wondering why I came to sit with you then? I can see it in your eyes, which, by the way, are a lovely shade of cornflower blue."

Alice blushed again, busying herself with cutting into a tomato. "Yes, well, I'm not used to men inviting themselves into my life." She knew that was a lie, but this Tom didn't need to know her entire life's history.

"I'm not usually so presumptuous when it comes to women, but I saw you struggling with your bags in the rain yesterday and it was so charming, I had to see if you would still be here."

"What would you have done if I wasn't?"

" I would have missed having breakfast with a beautiful young woman, and my day would have been sadder for the loss of it."

Alice was about to say something else when Molly dropped off the check. The older woman also tucked a map and a few pamphlets by Alice's plate, smiling in a way that reaffirmed the fact she had picked the right place to stay. "Willshyre is a lovely place lass, and I hope ya enjoy yer stay. I'll make sure ya have fresh sheets when ya come back tonight. Ya are coming back tonight, aren't ya?" Molly shifted her eyes to Tom, and Tom eyed Molly with an unreadable look. Alice felt her cheeks warming yet again, nodding more quickly than she should have. "Yes…yes I will be back tonight."

Molly smiled triumphantly, humming some spry little tune as she made her way off. Alice lazily reached for the bill to see what the damage was, hoping she could figure out the correct amount of currency, when Tom lifted the check right out from under her fingertips in one fluid motion. "It's the least I can do for disturbing your morning."

"Oh..no…you don't have to…"

Tom leveled eyes with her, and something in her instinctually stopped her tongue. She felt like a small child being scolded for some reason. "Thank you."

He smiled at that, though it was only a tight tug at the corners of his mouth. "Excellent…now…you know why I'm in Willshye, but I know nothing of your travels. Are you on holiday?"

Alice dabbed her lips with her napkin, trying not to appear too crude in the presence of this English gentleman. "I'm…looking for a friend."

Tom stopped a moment as he put away his wallet, quirking a brow. He was obviously displeased. "A friend?"

"Yes and to be honest Mr. VonTrench I really need to get my day started." Alice stood, tugging her red coat off the back of her chair. "Thank you again for breakfast. I hope you enjoy your stay here."

Tom stood quickly as she did, moving to help her with her coat. Chivalry wasn't dead after all. He smoothed her collar as he slipped the coat over her shoulders, and once that was done he moved, taking her hand in his. "Thank you, lovely Alice, for brightening this gray morning." Once again he pressed his lips to her knuckles, making her uneasy.

"You're welcome…have a good day…"

Alice made as hasty of a retreat as she could without looking childish and appearing to run from the Inn. When she was safely outside she looked back through the distorted glass of the door, only to find that Mr. VonTrench was still staring. "What a strange little man…."

* * *

"Are you sure there hasn't been a Jervis Tetch here?"

The tea shop owner shook his head, offering an apologetic look. "Thank you just the same…"

Her shoulders slumped as she left the shop, taking the piece of paper from her pocket that Pam had given her on the dock last spring. It clearly said Willshyre England on it so she was sure she hadn't traveled to the wrong location…but after a day of asking around no one had even heard of a Jervis Tetch. Had she missed him? Perhaps he was never here at all. He wasn't in Arkham and he wasn't in the papers in Gotham, but maybe he was just laying low. Worse yet, maybe he was trying extra hard not to be found.

Her day had taken her all over the village, and not only had no one recognized his name, but everyone she spoke to seemed lost on his description as well. It would seem that Gotham's worst were not as infamous as they believed themselves to be.

Her disappointment was written all over her face as she strolled down the now dark streets of the village, causing odd looks from residents on their evening stroll. She didn't know what she had imagined would actually happen. Maybe she had read too many novels because in her heart she had expected to run into him today, as if he would know automatically that she was in the area…perhaps sense her somehow. It was so absurd, but during her captivity, Jervis had made it seem as though they shared a special connection. Girlish dreams dictated that some divine sonar should have set off in his mind the minute she landed, but it was not to be, and she felt foolish for even thinking it.

She had been lost in thought so long that once she came to her senses, she noticed she was alone on the streets, so it had to be very late. Shops had closed, and now all that greeted her weary eyes were dark interiors and ghostly doorways. Every inhabitant of Willshyre was in their beds by now, dreaming of happier things.

She got her bearings and started to make her way back towards the inn, when something down the road that caught her eye. In the moonlight, she saw the silhouette of a man in a top hat and long cloak, pulling another figure into a small looking shop. The man didn't appear to be struggling, and yet he was certainly dragging his feet. Alice squinted trying to ascertain any amount of detail from either of them, but alas, it was impossible.

"Jervis?" She said softly, feeling her heart flutter in what was almost always anticipation mixed with dread when he was near. Her pace picked up until she neared the store, and then a little voice inside her head told her to proceed with caution, and so she did.

The store had a large picture window in the front that probably once held examples of a shop's wares, but now the only thing it contained was an old looking sign that read ' Willshyre Office of Historical Records.' Alice stayed to the side of the window, peeking in. The larger figure in the top hat was looming over a mousey sort of man, who was groggily shaking his head and looking more terrified by the moment as the figure in the top hat shook him violently.

Alice leaned forward to get a better look, but as her hip pressed against the base of the window, it put enough pressure on a pane of already cracked glass causing a large piece to slip out of its slot, hitting the ground with an audible little thunk. The two men stopped, and when the man in the top hat turned, Alice was terrified…it was definitely not Jervis Tetch.

The figure's entire face was concealed in gray, and shadowed by the brim of the hat. More shadows were provided by the high collar of a cloak that looked as though it had been taken straight out of a Charles Dickens' novel. The suit he wore was very dated as well, and she could see his white gloved hands clearly as he dropped the smaller man, squeezed an opera cane, and started for the door. Alice could think of nothing but running.

She took off in the opposite direction of the inn, running as fast as her legs would carry her into the dark night. She could hear the sound of dress shoes clicking against cobble right behind, but as she ducked into an alley way, they seemed to stop.

Alice tried desperately to control her breathing; straining her ears to take in every little sound. She looked high and low in the space she was in, not seeing anyone behind her or in front of her, and there was no one on the fire escapes on the sides of the buildings…for now she was safe.

She waited a beat before backing up, planning to exit the opposite way she had come in, when she heard a large whoosh behind her and her back hit something solid.

She wanted to scream, but the man in the hat was too quick. In what felt like an instant she was pinned up against the stone wall of the building, with a switchblade at her throat. Her eyes filled with tears, and all she could utter in her horror was a very meek and broken, "please…"

The figure seemed ready to strike, but stopped as it regarded her face in the small amount of light coming from the street. Just as she thought she was done, she heard the click of the blade as it was flipped back into place and it vanished. She moved to run, but a hand against her throat put her back at the wall very quickly. Alice only wished that she could see the face of the man who was going to kill her, but all she heard was his ragged breathing.

His strong form was rigid as he held her in place, his face very close to hers. She could smell a very old cologne on him that wreaked of expensive ingredients. Tears ran down her pale cheeks, as her eyes pleaded with him not to take her life.

The free hand that was not pinning her to the wall by her neck, seemed to move independently of its violent owner, as it reached up to drag its gloved surface gently across her cheek. It repeated it against the other, and Alice was convinced he had just wiped her tears away.

"Who…what are you…"

As the figure cocked its head to the side and caught a bit of light, Alice could see that the face was obscured by a thin material, that surely allowed him to see out but not allow others to see in.

The voice that answered her was rough, and yet cultured. "They call me….Professor Moriarty."

Alice was about to answer, when she heard noises coming from the street. She bet that the store clerk had called the police the moment this mad man had left. She felt Moriarty press his body close to hers, enveloping her in warmth and shielding their forms from site as the police passed by the alley. She could feel him leaning in, and instinctually she knew his lips were centimeters from her ear.

"Until we meet again…my pet…."

As soon as he had appeared, he was gone, and Alice once again felt the chill of the night all around her. She ran out of the alley, collapsing to her knees and calling for the police in a strangled voice. She saw one of them turn and start running back to her as her head started spinning. Apparently Gotham wasn't the only area in the world with literary wackos.

* * *

Jervis had spent the morning in great unrest. For days the air around his home had felt charged with an odd sort of electricity he couldn't put his finger on. He sat at his kitchen table, looking over the dormant garden as he drank his morning tea.

He had taken the paper in an hour ago , but as of yet it lay unread on the table's surface. His mind kept turning to Gotham and that night on the docks…

"_I'm afraid you don't understand me as I thought you did my love…but one day you will, and when that golden day comes you will find me, and then we can be together."_

He moved the cup inches from his lips, almost wishing he had never left Gotham, but after everything that had happened he needed to be away from it all. He missed her with every breath he took, but he was sure that after a year, she had come to her senses and had realized it was probably the stress of captivity that caused her to feel for him.

He had come so close to everything he had ever wanted but he walked away. If you love something let it go…

He picked up the paper, shaking it open with his free hand. He took another sip of tea as he read the front page, before the cup slipped from his hand completely and crashed to the floor, sending tea everywhere.

The headline read, 'Visiting American has run in with British super villain.' The black and white picture of the blond on the front, huddled by a police officer who had draped a blanket over her shoulder, was very familiar indeed.

"Alice…"

It didn't seem real, but the proof was right in front of him. She had come looking for him…Alice was here…in Willshyre.


	3. Chapter 3

First I'd like to apologize that this new chapter took so long to get done...planning a wedding sucks up a lot of time! Second, thank you to all of you who had been reviewing and leaving such encouraging messages. I may not be very good at answering people, but you're all greatly appreciated and keep me writing! With that said my little Wonderlanders...on to the story.

* * *

**Chapter 3: The Rabbit is a Fox**

Jervis had been in a flurry of motion all day, hardly being able to contain himself. He hummed the Mock Turtle's song as he opened drapes, swept floors, and began his spring cleaning.

Rosethorn had once been his mother's pride and joy, and despite the heartache here, or perhaps in light of, she had mostly devoted herself to its beauty and up keep. Thankfully the last care takers of the place where prepping it to be sold to some nasty men from the city, so the structure had hardly fallen into disrepair.

Ah the care takers….Jervis had wanted to spare Barton's life, but the man had been so argumentative over the deed to the land, that Jervis was sure that the moment he was out from under his mind control he'd contest the papers. The last thing Jervis needed was any undue attention.

With Alice in mind, Jervis had decided to be merciful. Barton had loved this land as much as his mother, and so it seemed only merciful to have him drown himself right on the grounds. He could never admit to her that seeing the man's pale face, bobbing in the pond out back, had brought a great sense of satisfaction. He would do anything to secure the home where he had hoped one day to bring Alice, he had just never planned to make her visit so early.

* * *

A week had passed quickly for Alice, with no relief from the memories of her masked man anywhere in sight. Her mother had always taught her, when the going gets tough, the tough go shopping, and she had. Her small room at the bed and breakfast looked like a warehouse for an English boutique. She had called her father to up her line of credit, and he had done so willingly, pleased to see his daughter acting normal by his own standards. She had purchased hand-made linens and quilts for her mother, and a very expensive desk set for her father along with a dusty bottle of scotch she was sure he'd enjoy with his business associates over cigars, and she smiled as she thought of her mother sending them out to the gazebo to do it.

The package she had been anticipating the most was a lovely pair of shoes, made by a man right in town. She rarely treated herself to those sort of luxuries, but something in the air as of late had made her want to feel beautiful. The shoes she had ordered the day after her attack, were being made of buttery soft leather in a gray that reminded her of English skies. The Cobbler had promised to make them stylish, and she had begged him to fashion a little bow at the toe, as she had seen prominent women in Gotham wearing as of late. They had arrived this morning, delivered by the cobbler himself with great pride. She had been so excited to see them, she had built up the occasion by saving the unveiling for after breakfast as if it were Christmas. Cardboard and tissue paper flew as Alice's small hands tore through the covering to find her treasure. What was inside made her gasp…gray leather as promised…modest heal…cushiony interior…and even her fashionable bow…all wrapped up shoes far too large to ever fit her small feet.

She ripped them out of the box, kicking off her flats in hopes that her eyes had deceived her, but alas they would have fit a giant in her eyes. No amount of shrinking potion would ever help fix this mess. She dove for her travel guide, wrinkling her brow in annoyance as she flipped through the pages to find the conversion charts. When she had told the sales clerk she was a dainty size six and a half, she never took into account that shoe sizes were not the same in England as they were in the states. The shoes she had ordered, in America, would be a rather large size eight and a half.

"Perfect Alice…a fine mess…." She sighed, unceremoniously tossing her ruined bounty in the box. She looked around the room...she was on vacation wasn't she? What better task did she have at hand other than going to try and fix her mistake? Unable to come up with a proper answer for herself, Alice stood and threw on her blue coat, hoping the larger shoes would fit her mother in the summer, when humidity tended to make her feet swell.

She passed through the Inn's dining room, waving to Molly as she made her way out into the streets. As was becoming a habit for her in this quaint town, she collided with something solid.

"I'm so sorry I really should learn to look up…."

"It's of no consequence…dear Alice.."

Alice looked up, quirking a brow. "Mr. VonTrench….how funny to run into you outside my hotel….again…"

He smirked, and Alice felt uneasy as she noticed he was studying her with those green eyes of his. "Just out for an afternoon stroll…and you?"

"Just off to order some shoes."

"Again? I take it you found Mr. Clecks work to your liking?"

"How did you?..."

"Small village Alice. What with your run in with Moriarty and the boost you've given to Willshyre's economy, people talk. I wasn't aware you come from such an affluent family."

" I wasn't aware Mr. VonTrench, that you had taken such a keen interest in my stay here."

"Please call me Tom…."

"Thomas…."

He took her arm, pulling her along gently into a stroll towards Mr. Cleck's cobble shop."I would love to buy you lunch after shopping."

Alice very delicately removed her arm from Tom's grasp, taking a step back. "To be honest with you Thomas, I just had breakfast a bit ago and you know how large Molly's meals are. Also, since you've obviously read about my attack, you must also realize I've had my fill of pushy men, so if you'll excuse me."

Thomas stiffened, and took a step back; tipping his hat in defeat. "Until we meet again…"

Alice paused, eyeing the man before her, but she quickly turned and made her way off towards the shop without bothering to look back. She didn't need to see him to know he was watching her go.

* * *

The bell to Mr. Cleck's shop rang in an off key fashioned as she pushed the heavy wooden door open. Every day in this town was like walking through a 'Please Touch' History Museum, with every building and person as antiquated as the next. This could certainly be said for Roger Cleck, who sat at his giant wooden workstation, tapping small nails into well made soles as his father had, and his father before him.

"Ah Miss Pleasance. Pleasure to see ya…"

Despite her earlier haze of doom, Alice smiled in spite of herself as she took in everything the shop had to offer. It smelled of tanned leather, glue, and Roger's heavy cologne that reminded her of cedar and pine.

"Hello Mr. Cleck. How are you today?"

"Fine dear, very fine, and you? How are those shoes?"

Alice could feel the color come to her cheeks. "Actually I needed to talk to you about those. You see, I need to order another pair. I accidently ordered the shoes too large."

Mr. Cleck watched her, taking off his glasses in confusion. She could see he was going over the measurements in his head, and she found it charming to think his head was full of details from every shoe he had ever made. All of a sudden, he broke out into a hearty laughter that went all the way down into his toes and through the top of his head. "I forgot! You're American!"

Alice blinked. She had expected him to be annoyed, angry, possibly even embarrassed, but certainly not amused. "The mistake was mine Mr. Cleck, I'd just like to order another pair you see…"

The man stood, and despite his age, Alice still couldn't get over how broad he was in the shoulders. He was probably quite the lady killer in his time. "No dear I have quite a bit left over from your order, and to be honest, I have very few requests for gray leather shoes. Our mornings are gray enough for everyone. So I need to make you a four and half then? See how flattering our English measurements are?"

Alice nodded, and smiled gently as Mr. Cleck guided her to the door. "I'll try and have those ready for you as soon as I can. Can I bring them to Molly's?"

"Yes I'll be staying there…at least another week or week or two."

"Alright then dear, see you in about a week."

"Thank you Mr. Cleck! I really appreciate it!"

Mr. Cleck chuckled, crossing his arms, calling out to her as she made her way into the streets. "I told ya, call me Roger!"

Alice didn't know how strong the smell had been in the shop, until fresh air hit her nose that held promises of an afternoon rain. Her stomach grumbled, and she began to wonder if she could get one of Molly's meat pies to take to her room, without the nosey Mr. VonTrench finding out that she had opted for lunch after all. As she pondered the curiousness of her new acquaintance, she felt a hand pull her off the street, and into the alley by the shop.

'Not again!' her mind screamed. She was about to either tear her assailants eyes out with her nails or give Thomas VonTrench a stern talking to when she got a good look at who had pulled her aside. Dark eyes stared down at her from a well tanned face, whose features were lined with golden hair messy from the wind.

"Jervis…"

* * *

"What's eatin' you?" Charles shoveled a large spoonful of stew past his fat lips as he eyed his business companion, who was reading the paper without his eyes being anywhere near the page. Charles followed his friends gaze to Molly's tavern, and smirked, shoveling another spoonful in. "It's that American bird, isn't it?"

Thomas looked over, sneering with great distaste. "For God's sake man, wipe your mouth," he tossed a napkin in his direction, his paper now forgotten on his lap. "You know I loathe when you talk with your mouth full. How on earth did you ever get so high in this company with those manners?"

"My dad asks me the same thing all the time. But then I remind him he owns the company and he promoted me. Joke's on him ain't it?" Charles laughed, bringing the bowl up to shovel the rest of the food into his anxious maw.

"To answer your question…not entirely. She's a mystery Charles…a damnable one at that. It bothers me that one young woman could hide so much so easily. Her parents, the man she seeks, the time she plans to be spend here, the man she seeks…"

"You said that twice.'

"Hmm?"

Charles set his bowl down, barely dabbing away the gravy. "You mentioned the man she's looking for twice. That means it bothers you."

Thomas waved him off, picking up his paper once more. "Too many mysteries is all Charles. First this bloody heir and now this mystery girl looking for this mystery man."

"Wouldn't it be hysterical, if she ended up findin' out she's been lookin' for our heir?"

Thomas stopped cold in his tracks, lowering his paper to eye his companion across the table. "What did you say?"

"I said…. wouldn't it be hysterical, if she ended up findin' out she's been lookin' for our heir? I was just yankin' yer chain was all…likelihood of that bein' the case would be a million to one…then again…that's what I said about Moriarty ever leaving London but it's happened hasn't it? Thomas…?Thomas?"

The door to 'The Raven' slammed shut as Charles realized he was alone. "Bloody hell…what's gotten into him these day?" he reached over, pinching a sausage from his plate as he shook his head and began looking for the waitress.

* * *

"Jervis…I can't see…this isn't funny…"

When he had whispered, 'come with me,' she had followed obediently without thought. When you get to a point in your life where you'd follow a known psychopath at his word, you knew the rules of the world no longer meant a thing. He had popped a blindfold over her eyes and led her into a waiting car, that took them away from the center of Willshyre, and down a certainly less traveled road by the bumps they hit. Despite how many times she had asked him to answer her, they road together in silence until the car had stopped and he helped her out.

"I'm very sorry to have accosted you in this manner Alice…but I'm trying to stay out of the public eye…"

Alice ripped her blindfold off, and was about to fall into a tirade, when the scene before her took her breath away. It was Rosethorn mansion, draped in the new first musings of spring. The cherry blossoms alone were enough to take her breath away. She felt strong, gloved hands come to rest upon her shoulders, as she took in everything around her. "Jervis…do you…have you…"

"This is my childhood home Alice. I grew up here and have…recently acquired it back from the people who bought it from my parents. Do you like it? It's very secluded…a perfect place for tea…."

"Jervis…it's…"She rounded on him. "You didn't have to blindfold me to bring me here!"

Jervis blushed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. No matter how hard he tried, he always seemed to anger her in some fashion.

"Some very tricky people are trying to find out who I am. I couldn't risk them knowing you knew how to get here. You never know what these mad men will do Alice…"

"Isn't that the truth." She sighed and crossed her arms, looking back to the house.

As Alice took everything in, Jervis wrung his hands nervously at every second of silence that ticked by. He had dreamed of this reunion since they had parted on the docks, but it wasn't the passion filled moment he had anticipated. His head was frantic as he searched for the words, and it caused such a fever in his brain, that if he were a tea pot he'd be whistling by now.

He wanted to quote Wonderland to her, as in his mind they were the most romantic words he could offer, and yet they always seemed to cause her despair.

"Do you…I mean could you…or would you….like to come inside? The…interior of the home is far lovelier than its' exterior I assure you." Jervis could feel himself holding his breath, and he cursed his body for its' fine timing in ignoring his brain.

"Yes Jervis…let's go inside." Alice smiled softly, looking back to the house. She wanted to be angry at him for the deceptive way he brought her here. At first it made her feel as trapped and secluded as she had in the underground…but then she remembered, with startling clarity, that she had chased him to Europe and not the other way around. 'Well Alice,' she thought, ' you've come this far, so you might as well see it to its' end

* * *

From across the street, a set of pale green eyes watched the couple enter the house with a sneer. The blonde woman took the man's arm shyly, but with trust, as if they were well acquainted. Thomas' blood boiled at the thought of anyone touching her, though when he had become so possessive over this strange girl he didn't know.

"So my little American and the heir know one another…" Thomas looked to his hat, flipping it onto his head with a fluid grace. He had heard she came from a place called Gotham City…perhaps a few calls to some old friends would shed light on the situation.


	4. Chapter 4: The Blue Room

**I have to apologize to anyone who has been following this story that I vanished for so long...who knew that getting married could so thoroughly consume your life! Thank you to everyone who took time to review, and to all of you awesome authors writing Jervis/Alice fictions out there. This chapter is dedicated to Nassstya at Deviant Art who drew a wonderful piece inspired by the prequel to this story which can be found here (lots of other fabulous pieces as well!) :**

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**I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 4: The Blue Room**

* * *

Sitting in the drawing room of Jervis' childhood home brought a great many things into startling clarity. The essence of who he was…who he became…was trapped within these antiquated walls.

Alice sat demurely with her hands folded on her lap, and her eyes trained on the empty bit of floor in front of her. She tried very hard to imagine a small Jervis playing happily on the area rug, but the image wouldn't come. Men with happy, simple child hoods, didn't grow up to be murderers…

Muderer…the word echoed in her head and pulled a heavy sigh from her lungs. Jervis _was_ a murderer, and a thief, and a villain, but part of him was also compassionate, and gentle, and lonely. She felt nervous all of the sudden as the reality of what she was doing crept in on her. She had promised she would find Jervis here in England and the minute she found him they would talk and figure things out, but now feelings were as frightening as the click of the heels coming to her across the old wooden floors.

Wordlessly Jervis crossed to where she sat, pouring tea and arranging small cookies without ever daring to look her in the eye. It was a small comfort to know he was as nervous as she was. He offered her the tea and she accpeted it, finding it to be perfeclty sweetened and lightened with milk. He sat with his own cup, taking small sips, and offering nothing in the way of conversation.

It was awkward…_this_…was awkward…all of it. Wasn't this supposses to be different? Weren't there more trials she had to go through before them being reunited? Didn't love stories end with highly dramatic climaxes and breathless vows?

"The china is beautiful."

Jervis looked up, trying to decipher her words. He looked back to his hands, eyeing the delicate cups and saucers with their floral pattern and gilded edges, and then her simple words clicked…she was making small talk.

"Oh I…it was..well they all were my mother's…"

"Jervis I wanted to…"

Jervis raised a hand, pursing his lips for a moment. "Let us not spoil this moment dear Alice. I have had a lifetime of things flowing away from me…permit me to enjoy this trickle of happiness."

Alice only nodded, forcing her wildly beating heart to quiet itself.

"Was your flight pleasant? I know you detest airplanes." Something sparkled within the depths of Jervis's eyes, like diamonds reflecting the sun. It made his heart swell to think that she had crossed an ocean for him, despite past conversations they had had in the office about how terrified she was to fly.

"It was an experience." She sipped her tea, trying not to recall the nausea she had experienced during take off. "The man next to me talked in his sleep," she giggled as she recalled him. "It sounded like a good dream at least."

Her smile and her laughter filled him with renewed energy and he stood, offering her not a hand but his arm. "Come Alice, let me show you the gardens."

She seemed hesitant at first, but after a moment she stood and set her cup down. Taking the crook of his arm with her small hand, the two strolled arm and arm off to the garden.

* * *

Thomas VonTench sat alone, reading by a single light in his room at the inn. As much as he tried he couldn't relax, and he couldn't get the image of the American and the heir out of his mind. The man was so mousey and so unassuming, not to mention a rather poor dresser; no one wore spats anymore. The very notion that that wretch had swindled him out of one of the most lucrative business moves of his career irked him severely.

Somehow he had managed to hide his identity, take the deal right out from under them, and land controk of the inheritance attached to the deed that Thomas had been sure that no one knew about. That fact alone meant that in some way, he probably was the legal heir to the manor, but Thomas had never let silly things like the law stand in his way.

What really perked his interesst was why this man had been out of the picture to begin with. Perhaps he was illegitatmate? Given up for adoption? Estranged? The possibilities for blackmail would be endless if one could only manage to find the key. All he needed to do was wait for information from his contact back in Gotham. Thomas was pleased that Molly could be so chatty, or he never would have overheard exactly where his little american was from.

His father had scoffed when he had traveled abroad for a year to make business aquantances in the states. Old school thinking dictated that Britain was the center of the universe, and anything done beyond its walls was a waste. Now, it would help him find his connection between Alice and the heir, and as Thomas reveled in the silence of his room, he could almost hear that proverbial lock click.

* * *

Alice and Jervis had been all over the manor today. They had walked in the garden in utter silence, just marvelling in the beauty of the countryside. He had shown her every inch of his home, save for one room, which was locked up away from the world.

She sat on her bed in the guest room now, trying to listen to the whispers of the past. Every tick of clock, every creek and moan the old house made, was trying to tell her of Rosethorn and its' history.

Alice stood and walked to the balcony attached to her room, throwing wide the doors and allowing the cool night air to flow in. A spring rain had begun to lightly kiss the earth, and awaken all the smells that came with it. Wilshyre was a far cry from Gotham, where winter was still waging her war, desperately trying to drive Persephone back into the depths of the underworld to prolong her reign. England was gentler in nature, and welcomed the maiden with open arms.

She looked back on the room, noting that save for the colors, the furniture was a lot like the ones from the underground. She wondered if Jervis' mother had picked out each piece herself, because the décor spoke of an old sophistication that Alice saw often in her son.

Jervis must have known she was in town long before he made contact, because when she came out from her bath there was a modest nightgown laid out for her on the bed and a pair of dainty slippers just her size. He had also left a tray of milk and cookies, no doubt recalling that during her last stay with him, she was always inquiring about sweets near bedtime. The thing that made her stomach flutter, was a pale english tea rose placed on the tray. It was obviousely snipped from one of the bushes in the garden, but she couldn't recall seeing any early blooms on their walk.

Moving from the balcony, she paced the room, her mind wandering again and again back to that locked door downstairs. When she had asked Jervis about it, there was visible discomfort in his eyes…

"_No, no Alice that room is in great disrepair, perhaps I could show you the kitchen instead?"_

"_Oh Jervis I don't mind. I know the house is old…."_

"_Another room Alice…that one will swallow you whole..."_

What was so painful inside that room? Secrets were so dangerous. A thought began to tickle at the back of her mind, and though she tried to push it off, it became more persistent until she found herself standing in the hallway, listening for any sign that Jervis might still be awake.

The house was dark, save for the scraps of moonlight that peeked through the windows as the short storm moved off. The steps were a bit creeky, but her lithe body moved down them with little disturbance, and she crept across the drawing room to the back hall where the door awaited her.

Alice fiddled with the door knob, pleased to find it old and very jiggly. She studdied the expanse of painted white wood before her, running her fingers across the lines where moisture had seeped in and naturally crackled the paint. How ironic that she should wish for a shrinking potion that would have allowed her to slide under the door as easily as a mouse. She rested her head against it, willing it to tell her the answer to its' riddle.

It would appear the door had heard her and had granted her wish, because out of nowhere she recalled that by the entrance to the garden was a skeleton key hanging on a nail. Old houses never had very complicated locks, and usually a skeleton key would open any room, especially in a house so old. As she scampered back across the drawing room to find it, she wondered why Jervis would just leave it out. A pang of guilt flooded her as she realized it was because he trusted her not to betray him, but how could she ever come to accept a man whose real life was still substantially hidden in shadows?

The lock clicked and the door creaked, and despite the dim light from outside, Alice could tell it was the most beautiful room that Rosethron had. The walls, without doubt, where a deep shade of blue. There was a large piano in the corner and bookshelves all along the walls. She instinctually moved to the fireplace, eyeing the stone base with a sadness she could not justify.

She moved around the room with the quick movements of a bird, fluttering from object to object so that she could see everything. She passed a desk, and reached out for the center drawer, fingering the ivory handle. She tugged very gently but a sound upstairs caused her to pull too hard, and the whole thing came out in her hand. As the contents dropped to the floor, Alice couldn't take her eyes off a picture that had fallen out of a family with a mother, a father, a dauhghter, and…two boys? Her mind was busy processing the information when hands grabbed at her, spun her around, and dragged her from the room by her wrist.

Everything had gone too fast for her…the locking of the door…the angry words…the motions that had led to her pinned up against the wall by her wrists, with Jervis' angry snarl inches away from her face. It took her what seemed like ages to comprehend his words as audible speech, as her mind was still on the photograph.

"Alice?..Alice!...I asked you a question!" He shook her by her wrists, blinded by a rage she had come to know all too well, because she inspired it in him more than not as of late. "What were you doing?"

She was very calm as she watched him. Gotham Alice would have burst into tears, and pleaded with him to end the stabbing pain he was causing in her wrists and the numbness starting at her fingertips. She remembered, however, that Gotham Alice never would have boarded a plane, or wandered around a strange country by herself, and so she pushed him back off of her in a move that shocked her a bit, and totally caught Jervis off guard.

He stumbled back, eyeing the girl in front of him who had the audacity to look angry at him in his own home, especially after he had caught her snooping. "Stop putting your hands on me!"

She rubbed her wrists, feeling saddened and more like her old self after the adrenaline had worn off a bit, but she would not cry. She moved away from the wall and into the room. Jervis spun, intent on fumbling apologies as he collected himself, but as usual the site of her floored him, and he shivered with all sorts of emotions barely hidden just beneath the surface of his skin. The moon shone through the white cotton nightgown he had purchased for her, outlining her sillouette. His mouth went dry and a lump formed in his throat, pushed away only by the fire that came to his cheeks and he covered his eyes before he remembered that he could turn around. "A robe…"

She looked up at him, quirking her brow in confusion. "Jervis?"

"I left you a robe in your room…how improper for you to walk around like this. It seems, my dear, that you're up to quite a bit of mischief tonight."

"For heaven's sake Jervis turn around and look at me…we're adults." One of us at least, she thought, as he slowly turned around, keeping his eyes on her face. If she had ever mused over which bases Jervis had and had not discovered in his youth, she was certain now that he didn't even know what the bases where. It was endearing that chivalry wasn't dead.

He watched her, the anger fading to hurt and she knew she had betrayed him. She walked over and took his hand, leading him to the couch. After he sat she took the matches from the drawer on the side table, and lit the oil lamp. In the soft glow, Jervis could see the angry red around her wrists, and he could not take his eyes off of them as she sat by him. Apple doesn't fall far from the tree so they say…

"Jervis we're not doing this again, not like the underground. If the Mad Hatter and Jervis Tetch are one in the same, then there are no excuses for you to behave this way, even though I was wrong...and I'm sorry."

He was listening of course, but he took on a child's detachment at times when being scolded, and he had retreated there now. He took her wrist in his soft hands, and Alice relished the luxury as they were normally gloved. He traced small circles with his thumbs, soothing away the unintensional indian burn he had caused. To be so rough and then so gentle…she trembled inwardly to wonder what would happen when all that passion was evetually let out.

"I'm sorry Alice…I'm always sorry…but that room is private. There are reasons I don't want it open…they have more to do with me than anything."

She only nodded, and decided she was far too tired to discuss anything else. She came to England to be with Jervis, for now she would be with Jervis. She shocked him, causing him to go rigid as she moved and pushed against him until he sat back and seemed comfortable. She took a pillow and rested it on his lap, staring up at him and resting her head against his stomach. Neither of them spoke as she took one of his hands and rested it on her stomach. She played with his fingers affectionately until they both fell asleep, coddled in each others' warmth and lulled into dreaming by the rhythmic beating of their hearts.


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm back! I know after this lengthy hiatus you may have thought I was dead, but I was simply plagued by nasty writing demons who hid my pens and stuffed cotton in my brain. In all seriousness thank you to those who continued to read and review. I'm dreadful at answering people (because I can never think of anything witty to say) but I read all comments and do small dances that people are paying attention. You are all more appreciated than you know!**

* * *

Chapter 5: The Sound of Crows

Alice found herself moving down a long hall, which predictably kept getting longer and longer until she reached the door of the study. There was anxiety building in her chest and the urge to turn the handle again was pressing, but the thought of Jervis' angry eyes made her pull her hand away.

She stepped back into the shadows, leaning on the back wall and rubbing her arms to ward off a cold she knew to be unnatural. Alice wanted to turn and walk up the steps, and moved to do so, until she heard a tapping…

It was a soft sound, barely decipherable at first, but terrible none the less. The sound of it filled her with a sick churning in the pit of her stomach and Alice was certain she would pass out if it didn't stop soon. She prayed the tapping would end…begged it…listening harder and harder to see if she could make it out. It was then that Alice noted it wasn't a tap at all, but a drip.

As her brain registered the drip, she felt an immediate pain on the side of her head. The very centralized headache spread to the side of her neck and down her arm, which seemed to be moving of its own volition to the door handle once more.

The need to find the dripping, which she instinctually knew was behind the door, pressed harder on Alice than it had before, and in a rush of courage she bolted forward. She didn't actually realize she had used the handle until she found herself back in the study.

Alice listened but the dripping sound came from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Her eyes scanned everything as quickly as she could until they came to rest on the mantle that was no longer painted, much to her astonishment. In that moment she located the sound of the drip, and her stomach emptied its' contents onto the carpet in front of her. Blood….everywhere…dripping from the mantle to the base and pooling on the floor in a thick, black puddle.

"Hello?"

Her voice sounded hollow in the large room, and she was surprised when no one answered. There was no body, no people, nothing to warrant the amount of blood dripping steadily to the floor. The sound was soon muffled by a voice that kept saying "No," over and over.

It wasn't a scream per say, more like a heart wrenched mantra that was certainly not coming from the room. Momentarily put off finding the source of the blood, Alice ran out of the room, following the voice down the hall, but every time she got to a door it vanished, and the voice got louder and louder until…..

She woke up, head throbbing, heart pounding, and throat raw as if she had actually gotten sick. The room she had fallen asleep in the night before looked just as it did when she closed her eyes, only more vivid in the early morning sun.

Alice pulled the covers tightly over head a moment as she gathered her senses, taking a few precious moments to work out that it had been a nightmare and nothing more, despite how vivid it was. She would have stayed there all day, had she not heard a great fuss coming from the downstairs. All of a sudden she was acutely aware of her need to be around the living, and she hopped out of bed to find her robe.

* * *

Rosethorn was mockingly serene to Alice as she descended the steps, as if it were pleased with itself. Of course it would be Alice thought, as she was sure it had shared all it had wanted to through her nightmare. How rude though, she mused, to invade one's head without their permission.

Alice had half a mind to be sore with the manor, but it was hard to stay angry when the air smelled so wonderful.

She could smell muffins, butter, and the perceived scent of freshly brewed tea that had always accompanied breakfast with Jervis. There was a rustling of the paper and Alice could envision her unusual host in slippers and a robe, waiting for her to sit and eat with him.

Alice swept into the room, determined to continue the feeling of ease and goodwill they had ended on, but the sight in front of her stopped her dead.

The man sitting at the table was not Jervis Tetch. He had mousey reddish brown hair and angular features, and she was sure that he was much shorter than Jervis despite the fact he was sitting. His build was also much wirier, as if he were all frame and no stuffing.

The man leveled dark brown eyes with her, and Alice felt fear creeping into her face that seemed to make the stranger ignite with pleasure. She was two steps from action (which wavered between running and grabbing the bacon pan) when Jervis entered from the garden.

The stranger watched her, as she watched Jervis humming, arms full of flowers and herbs that he carefully set on the counter and started to divide into piles. It was ludicrously domestic.

"Jervis?"

"Yes Alice darling?"

Alice blinked, somehow surprised that Jervis didn't take the stranger in his kitchen seriously, or offer her any explanation or introduction. She stared at him as he began to fill a vase with lilacs, subconsciously chewing her lower lip as though it would will him to notice

The man at the table re-ruffled the newspaper, burying his face back into it as if nothing had happened. "Jervis I think your companion is waiting for an introduction."

Jervis turned, obviously beaming that the stranger had used the word companion, and he turned his adoring gaze to Alice. "Why Alice, this is Jonathan."

Alice moved slowly, making her way to the table. She accepted quickly that in Jervis' world, she should have known who this man was instantly. His introduction seemed more like a parent repeating a fact to a dimwitted child, which Alice secretly resented.

She extended a hand to the stranger, trying to smile brightly. "Well it's a pleasure to meet you Jonathan, I'm Alice."

Jonathan leveled eyes with her again over the paper before returning to his article; his hands calmly resting where they were. "I gathered that when Jervis used your name."

She lowered her hand, inwardly wounded that the stranger could be so curt and that Jervis had allowed it. Jervis turned with a cup of tea that Alice had not even seen him prepare. When he saw where Alice was he gasped and rushed to the table, pulling her up out of her seat.

"Not that chair Alice, never that chair!"

"But…Jervis…"

"I insist, this chair is much better." He carefully helped her into the seat to her right and set her tea down in front of her. Alice tried to quell the annoyance building up inside of her. One indignity after another; wasn't she a guest here?

"I don't know why you insist on keeping her Jervis. Women are notoriously cumbersome."

Alice stared at the man known as Jonathan, this time her lips in full gape. Moments passed, and when Jervis did nothing to come to her rescue, Alice stood.

"I'm going...elsewhere." She huffily stormed from the room, which finally caused Jonathan to put down his paper, smirking in his small triumph.

Jervis set down the plate of breakfast he was making for her, looking utterly perplexed. His shoulders slumped and he stormed to the stove, taking the tea kettle and shaking it angrily. "Horrible old pot! I knew it wouldn't make good tea. Alice deserves a better kettle."

"Jervis…"

"Everything always goes wrong, and now the tea has driven her off."

Jonathan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Jervis I don't think…"

He watched as his old friend stomped to the window, throwing the copper relic through the window and right into the garden. He then took off out of the room after the girl.

"Alice…Alice!"

Jonathan sat in silence, pondering the little things that had just happened before returning to his paper. Having witnessed them this morning, it was no wonder they couldn't get together…Alice was far too devastatingly normal to ever have a life with Jervis. The sooner she realized that, the sooner they could return to Gotham.

* * *

Jervis found Alice's door locked when he tried the handle, and was forced to take up a vigil in the hall until she decided to come out. When an hour later she stepped out of her room, she was dressed for the day.

The dress in question was spring green, and as usual took his breath away. He watched her, hopelessly lost in her beauty. "I'm sorry for the tea."

Alice stared back, lost as well as she turned his words over in her mind, "The tea?"

"The kettle is dreadfully old you see, and I think it makes the water taste of nonsense…"

Alice took a deep breath, thinking the only thing here full of nonsense was him. "I'm not mad because of the tea Jervis, the tea was fine."

Jervis watched her, looking like a lost child. Alice walked over and took his hand, leading him downstairs to the living room where she was comfortable, and away from her room where she wasn't. As they took a seat on the coach, she took a deep breath, automatically switching into a sort of parent mode when explaining complicated matters to this once brilliant scientist.

"I'm not mad about the tea Jervis, I'm mad about Jonathan."

"Jonathan?" Jervis quirked a brow, really taking the sentence to heart," why would you be mad about Jonathan? I know he's a bit coarse but he is a guest after all."

"I thought I was a guest…"

"Oh Alice you are, but Jonathan is the newest guest. It's only polite that the newest guest be accommodated the most. If you like we can move you out today and then move you back in tomorrow, then Jonathan will have to be accommodating to you."

"But Jervis, I haven't moved in at all."

"Then it's easier than I thought!"

Alice took Jervis' hands in her own, and she watched him visibly blush. "I just thought that…you've always been so protective and the way he spoke to me…"

"Jonathan isn't very fond of women…or men for that matter…people in general annoy him."

"Yes but…it's nothing."

She dropped his hands, looking to the side, having caught herself before she sounded ridiculous. She couldn't fathom why she had even attempted a conversation with him like they were in a normal relationship. She had a hard time going to Billy with how she felt sometimes, and he had a firm grasp on reality. She felt silly and wanted to stand, but a light hand on her cheek stopped her. She looked to Jervis who was watching her eyes closely.

"You thought yourself more special to me than that."

Though she felt shame for admitting it, and it took her awhile to reconcile the feelings, she did want to be special. Alice had come to cherish the pedestal he had put her on. She nodded dumbly.

"That I should have defended your honor?"

Alice nodded again, a bit taken back by this stunning moment of clarity and insight on Jervis' part. She found herself holding her breath as he stroked her face lightly with the pad of his thumb. He was so close…would he kiss her? Alice couldn't be sure.

"Alice I…want to give you something. May I give you something?"

"You've given me a lot of things Jervis."

"Yes but, this is different. It's old and it's very dear to me."

Alice nodded a third time, feeling a hot thrill and cold dread in turns. Jervis stood and walked to the mantle, pulling down a small wooden box that she hadn't noticed before. He offered it wordlessly, almost holding his breath to see if she'd take it.

She reached out both hands, amazed at the weight of the tiny chest. The wood felt solid, unlike any cheap trinkets sold in shops today. The sides and edges of the box where carved with intricate scroll work and painted in gold. The center of the lid depicted a charming spray of roses in blue, and the odd color was not lost on her. It wasn't until she moved to lift the latch that Jervis put a hand on hers to stop her, and she eyed him questioningly.

"Alice what I want you to have is in that box…but I don't want you to see it just yet."

"Jervis, I don't understand."

"I'm not ready for you to see it."

"Then…why did you give it to me?" She moved to place the chest on the coffee table, and was stopped again. Jervis pushed it back into her lap, and she instinctually grasped onto it very tightly.

"Just you taking it, is enough for now dear Alice. Please keep it in your room, and don't peak at it, promise?"

"I promise." He was testing her, she was sure of it, and suddenly she felt very akin to Pandora. Jervis seemed satisfied and was grinning like the Cheshire cat as he moved to the door, taking his oversized hat off its hook.

"You're leaving?" She looked from Jervis to the kitchen, silently willing him to remember the strange man at the table.

"Will you miss me?" He chewed on his lip, rocking on his heels like a child as he watched her until she finally nodded. He hopped excitedly, placing his hat atop his head. "Splendid!"

She watched him walk out the door without any explanation of when he would be back or where he was going. She slumped back on the coach still holding the chest, wondering where all this would lead. She absently started to think about home and how worried her parents must be when the man introduced to her as Jonathan walked into the room.

He strolled towards the seating area poised with authority with his hands behind his back, but shoulders slightly hunched to betray an inner cowardice.

Immediately Alice felt like a child and began staring at the box, refusing to look back at the man who was eyeing her like a curio cabinet's contents. He studied her every feature to the point where she felt like he would turn her inside out if he felt he could get down to the mystery of her.

Finally he sat, crossing his legs and resting his temple against his fingertips as he studied her.

"What are you staring at?" Alice hunched her shoulders a bit, trying to fold in on herself. The more uncomfortable he made her however, the more at ease he seemed to be. Why did all of Jervis' friends have to be so…flawed?

"You."

"I can see that."

She stood and moved to the window, hoping that the site of new spring in all its glory would distract her from the monstrous little man behind her.

"I'm trying to decide why someone as brilliant as Jervis has put himself in such great danger for such an exceedingly plain snip of a girl."

Alice winced and began to feel very self-conscious, even though she realized it was preposterous to let this man get to her…he didn't even know her.

"Of course," he continued, "the correlation between your outward appearance and his chosen alter ego is undeniable. Still, I'm sure there are other blonde Alice's in the world. The question is, why you?"

"You'd have to ask Jervis that."

"Perhaps it's because you were convenient." Jonathan stood again, hands behind his back once more as he began to pace around the room, disturbing a knick knack or picture here and there casually. "Perhaps you were kind."

Alice hugged the box very close to her chest, not liking his analytical tone at all. She felt as if he were stripping her down piece by piece, and baring all her doubts like raw wounds.

"Did you know," He picked up a small figurine of a golden haired girl gathering tulips, "That after Jervis' story hit the papers, he had gained a fan club?"

Alice allowed herself to glance at Jonathan before looking back to the window, trying to drown him out.

"Crazy young girls who saw what Jervis did for you, or to you depending on who you ask, as an act of pure love. Didn't he tell you they would write to him in Arkham? Sending him pictures of how they would dye their hair to look more like _his_ Alice?"

"I didn't know that…"

"How odd that Jervis should work so hard to be with you, when he could have any one of those girls to fulfill his perverted child hood fantasies."

Alice visibly flinched, and Jonathan started to pick at the scab.

"Girls that wouldn't test him constantly, warm up to him and then change their mind. But he is crazy after all." He sighed wistfully, setting the figure back down.

"I suppose you're lucky that the malady of his insanity seems to be unwavering."

Jonathan could see her body language change, and in a shot she was by the door, taking her coat from the rack so quickly it still rocked on its legs. "I'm going out."

Alice quickly moved through the door, shutting it behind her to put as much distance between her and Jonathan as possible. She closed her eyes leaning back momentarily, finally letting her small form shake. Was this fear? Fear that Jervis could grow tired of her? The seed that horrible little man had planted was strong, and had started to bloom inside of her like a thorny weed. She moved all at once with renewed vigor to go into town.

Inside Jonathan Crane smiled triumphantly, walking back to his chair and retaking his seat with relish.

"Heh…who needs gas."


End file.
